


Third time's the Charm... Maybe?

by EmberAutumns



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fluff, Idiots in Love, Ineffable Dads, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Just until these idiots realize what's up, Light Angst, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pregnancy, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-06-26 23:36:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19778803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmberAutumns/pseuds/EmberAutumns
Summary: Shortly after the little Apocalypse that couldn’t, Crowley and Aziraphale are getting used to a few new quirks. Turns out convincing the entirety of Heaven and Hell that the two are all-powerful beings might have a few side effects. It turns out that might not be the only thing at play here though...Ineffable Dads, except Crowley has immediately jumped to the wrong conclusion. I’m sure they’ll figure it out eventually. Lots of fluff and some worried angst while these two idiots try to figure out what they’re doing.





	1. Jumping to Conclusions

Shortly after the aborted apocalypse, Aziraphale and Crowley found themselves relaxing in the bookshop, enjoying the quiet peace of each others company in a way they'd never been able to truly enjoy before. Crowley, for once, found no reason to worry for himself or the Angel, or at least, no reason that couldn't be pushed aside for the moment. Heaven and Hell feared them both, and for the moment he was fairly certain they'd be keeping their distance. The bookshop was closed, with no need to worry about intruding humans who might want to purchase one of the books Aziraphale clearly didn't want to sell in the first place. There was no need to worry about the fact that he was a demon, that he should technically be enemies with the Angel sitting a few short feet away, because both of them had already betrayed their respective sides to protect the other and the Earth.

In fact, the only thing he had to worry about was the off chance that the Angel with his nose buried deeply into his book might look up, catching him staring very intently at _him_ , and not the show he was supposed to be watching. He wasn't sure what show that was anymore and he didn't particularly care to check, opting instead to bask openly in the warm feelings he could practically sense swirling around his skin. He wasn't entirely sure what they were, they'd only began appearing after the temporary body switch, but Aziraphale had mentioned he felt something similar, albeit in a much sharper sense. Their current running theory suggested that their temporary switch may have led to a few rather unexpected side effects, but they couldn't tell yet if it was from the switch itself, or if it could possibly stem from their successful attempts at convincing Heaven and Hell they were more powerful than they truly were. After all, if miracles relied on belief, than it was possible convincing the entirety of Heaven and Hell of something could, theoretically, change how it worked for real. It had worked with Adam after all.

Which possibly led back to the odd swirling warmth enveloping him. Emotions, as far as either could guess, ones they weren't used to feeling quite so keenly pouring off others, and thus remained unnameable for the moment. The ones Crowley felt were undoubtedly positive, stronger in particular when they came off the Angel in waves. They'd long since absorbed into the very walls of the bookshop, letting out a constant hum of what Crowley assumed must be a low level of happiness, a general sense of calm and safety wrapped around him like a blanket fresh out of a dryer. They couldn't even begin to compare to the swaths of emotion Aziraphale let off.

There were thick clouds that lit his stomach into a frenzy of fireflies, sparking up every time the Angel would laugh, and the thick heady smoke that surrounded him every time the Angel aimed a smile his way. There were the light, teasing brushes of a sharper emotion as well, that only struck when Aziraphale was tucked in the midst of one of his favored indulgences. Others blended in too easily still, not yet distinct enough to pinpoint a cause, let alone tie a specific emotion to quite yet. While on the other side of the coin, Aziraphale was now likely sensing the anger of others for the first time, odd mixes of their darker desires. Luckily, these were much stronger outside, where the indistinct emotional hum of a crowd could become nearly overwhelming, rather than in the quiet space of his bookshop. It did temporarily put a bit of a damper on any plans to go out for lunch or dinner unfortunately, but they had the rest of eternity for that now. There was time to adjust.

This was not the only change Crowley had felt however, but the slight stuffy feeling in his gut wasn't a side affect his Angel seemed to share. No, the loose gathering sensation was unique to him apparently, leaving him feeling something associated closely with what a human might call nausea. It wasn't overwhelming, not so long as he wasn't jumping up out of bed or twisting too suddenly from an abrupt shock anyway. Mostly it simply sat there, pulling lightly at his energy in a way that wasn't quite draining, but very well could be if it were significantly bigger. More pressingly, it felt distinctly lighter than anything he usually associated with himself, a rather worrying realization when anything Holy was more likely to harm him than not. Or at least, as far as they could confirm at the moment anyway, they couldn't exactly be certain anymore after the Switch. Crowley absently noted that they'd need to test that when they had the chance.

Back to the rather important matter at hand though, Crowley could sense something not that unlike Aziraphale in the minute sensations. He didn't voice this aloud of course, not while it seemed so minor and calm for the moment, but he did keep a careful eye on the Angel just in case he'd accidentally left a missing piece of himself behind.

He'd seen a Demon manage that once, they'd left a piece of themselves behind just big enough that his essence had begun unraveling at the edges. The sluggish deterioration had flown under the radar for decades, hidden amidst the rest of the poisonous rot that had latched onto most demonic souls, until the constant leech on their energy had left them a husk of their former self. Long past the point of healing, the demon had crumpled inwards like discarded wrapping paper, exposing the raw vitriol of his soul for one fleeting moment before collapsing entirely. The memory had been scorched into Crowley's brain until he could practically smell the thick, acrid smoke, and even well over a millennia later he could recall the memory in perfect detail. The thought of watching his Angel collapse the way the Demon had sent far more than a minor thrill of terror running up his spine, but until he knew for sure there was very little he could do about it.

It was only when that bundle of nerves began to shift rapidly that Crowley's mind was torn away from it's concerns, drawn back into the present by the immediate increase of that odd feeling that might have been nausea. The unpleasant twist of his nonexistent innards sent his mouth watering in a very unfamiliar way, leaving it feeling swollen and uncomfortable as that little bundle of potentially angelic origin twisted again. His feet moved before his mind did, a deeply embedded instinct he couldn't name or remember twisting himself off the couch in an instant. His Angel startled briefly, looking up from his book with questioning eyes, but Crowley found his mouth glued tightly shut even as the instinct to comfort rose to the forefront of his mind. Having already relinquished control of his body, uncertain of what must be done himself yet certain that there was in fact something that needed doing in this odd situation, his feet carried him forward. His back was curled forward, one arm over his stomach as if to either protect it or perhaps hold it in place, yet even as his stomach gave a harsh jolt at the movement he was left with the impression that perhaps it wasn't quite as harsh as it could be.

Crowley let his body stumble forwards in it's instinctive rush, distantly surprised as it led him directly to the bathroom even as his body finally deigned to let him in on the plan. He’d witnessed more than one unfortunate human be forced to kneel before the porcelain throne in his time on Earth, but it was more than a little odd to experience the need to do so himself. The twisting feeling, which had been firmly labeled as nausea at this point, surged with a suddenness that cut off any further consideration. Aziraphale, having set his book down in worry over the sudden unexplained absence of his partner, had approached the door frame just in time to witness it himself.

To say the Angel was horrified would be an understatement, but it was not born of any instinctive reaction to the rather gross nature of the action, but rather of how distinctly impossible it was. Neither Angels nor Demons possessed a natural stomach, not even Aziraphale with his taste for human cuisine. Matter simply didn't hold up well when confronted with the raw power that one of their vessels contained, and anything they chose to eat would find itself converted to raw energy mere moments later. To see the Demon performing an act that was so undeniably impossible for their species was worrying to the extreme, because it meant that somewhere along the line his physical form had developed an entirely new organ just for the express purpose of expelling something inside of him.

The fact that Crowley was expelling a void black liquid did not ease his worries at all either. The liquid laid thick in the bowl, sinking under it's weight and sticking together in a way that unnerved the Angel. Crowley took little notice of the appearance himself, struggling to breath past the sticky substance forcing it's way up it's throat. His physical body, no matter how non-human it happened to be on the inside, still needed to breathe. It was one of the very few requirements, an innate need that couldn't simply be pushed aside the way eating or sleeping could. With the sudden and unfamiliar denial of the ritual, Crowley found himself struggling not to panic.

Aziraphale, running on as much instinct as Crowley had in the moment, took a few frantic steps into the bathroom and landed a solid thump on the Demon's back. The sudden jolt was enough to give him a brief moment to breathe, but it took another long minute of much gentler, soothing touches before the event passed in it's entirety. Neither could remember which had flushed away the evidence, only the desperation to leave the room behind and take a well deserved rest. Crowley's form glistened with an unfamiliar layer of sweat, shaking slightly as Aziraphale led him carefully out of the bathroom. His sunglasses felt glued to his face, the only thing holding his desperate mind together as his thoughts scattered and flew back together in a desperate, disorganized dance. Aziraphale was doing his best to hold himself together, but the anxious glances he shot Crowley's way couldn't be hidden, nor could the slight tremble in his hands. Everything felt distant as the Angel carefully led his Demon back to the couch, the only place his distracted mind could think of in the moment. Crowley laid down with a grateful huff of air, his stomach relaxing slightly the moment he'd stopped moving.

The two would have to discuss this later they both knew, but for the moment it could wait. Both of their minds needed time to slow down and process, and Crowley especially needed time to rest. The Demon tugged one of the decorative throw pillows under his head, and without prompting the Angel reached for on of the thin blankets he kept around for decoration mostly. There were no protests given in response to the worried tucking, just a small grateful hum, and then Aziraphale was settling back into his own chair. He found himself wishing he'd taken up the habit of sleeping himself, left instead to keep a worried eye on Crowley as he slept. Perhaps he'd finally take Crowley up on his offer to teach him how.

That would have to be later, of course. For now, he had an uneasy vigil to keep.


	2. This is Fine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale is significantly less Dense than Crowley for all of two seconds before he misplaces their shared brain cell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a little while! Crowley did not want to co-operate with dialogue, and the end just didn't want to happen. Hopefully this is a decent compromise!
> 
> I was asked to increase spacing between paragraphs, so general opinion, is this better or worse?

Aziraphale had been pacing the room for hours, desperate for anything to keep him mind off the, the, Heaven's, whatever it was he'd witnessed. He really wasn't sure what it ought to be called just yet, only that it had earned itself a capital letter whenever he did mange to name the thing. His shoes made a slight click against the floor as he turned again, wishing he was doing something more to help Crowley and yet too uncertain of what action to take still. A silent, searching glance was sent the demon's way, but Crowley was still sprawled lazily along the couch with a pillow hugged tightly to his chest. In any other situation the display might have been endearing, a show of trust in the angel's ability to protect him, but now Aziraphale could only search for even the smallest signs of stress. An eyebrow twitched, and he had to forcibly stop himself from scanning every memory he had of the demon for every instance Crowley may have mimicked the motion on the off chance that it was a tic he'd missed throughout their thousands of years together. Instead he forced himself to keep pacing, and if he started mumbling under his breath again, well it wasn't like it would bother Crowley at the moment. It barely counted as a distraction, but it was enough to keep him from spiraling into his own head at least for the moment.

Crowley himself had apparently caught onto his Angel's distress, even nestled deep into the comforts of sleep as he was. With the sound of Aziraphale's mutterings lingering in his ears, the demon slowly began to stir with a tired grumble. The noise was only just loud enough for Aziraphale's sharp ears to catch, but within a moment he'd knelt next to sofa in a show of patience he'd lacked the past few hours, anxious eyes flitting over his partners form as he finally began to shift.

Crowley on the other hand, was beginning to wonder why his mouth tasted like a horrifying mix of tar, ash, and sulfur. Memories of the last twenty four hours leaked into his brain slowly, gleefully reminding him of the rather unique experience he'd shared with Aziraphale's bathroom a few short hours ago. He bolted upright in an instant, a vague twist of nausea poking at his stomach again but opting to calm down after no more sudden movements were made. The bundle of energy in it's stomach had made it's reappearance, apparently unbothered by his previous experimentation with vomiting, flickering happily away as if it existed only to torment him.

Aziraphale couldn't stop himself from yelping out a desperate call of "Crowley!" Startled by the sudden shift, the angel had leaned backwards slightly, worried eyes analyzing every inch of the demon. Crowley's slit golden eyes were fully exposed for a few brief moments before he found his sunglasses sitting on a side table next to the couch. A moment of uncertainty kept Crowley from immediately putting them on, but whatever feeling that had caused that hesitation was quickly ignored, glasses sliding neatly onto his face as his eyes were hidden away once again. Aziraphale tried not to think about how much he missed them already, focusing instead on the dozens of questions bouncing around his skull, the most important one making it past his lips in an unsteady whisper. "Crowley, are you alright?"

Crowley didn't respond for a long moment, a slight pinch between his brows as if he wasn't quite sure how he was meant to respond. "I'm fine Angel," is what he began with after what felt like a century of waiting. "No need to worry about me." The 'I'm more worried about you' went unheard, too uncertain on how he was meant to explain his suspicions to the angel.

Aziraphale was unsurprisingly unsatisfied at the reassuring words, completely certain the Crowley was downplaying just how much the situation, whatever it was, was affecting him. The knowledge didn't exactly help with figuring out how to get him to open up though. Six thousand years of friendship with the demon and he still managed to step on the occasional emotional landmine, but he couldn't just leave the topic alone either.

Aziraphale stood, slightly surprising Crowley at the sudden motion, and gently pushed on the demon's shoulders until he laid back down. "I'm going to make us some tea. When I get back, I would appreciate if we could have a proper conversation about this." Aziraphale decided more than he suggested, but Crowley seemed too tired to really bother with objecting. That was a worrying notion in it's own right. With his piece said though, Aziraphale turned towards the kitchen without even bothering to take a moment to brush off his trousers.

As the angel busied himself with the tea, Crowley was given a few moments to think, something he desperately needed. It was obvious just how anxious the angel was, and now that he'd defected from Hell Crowley couldn't hide beyond excuses of being rivals. The truth was though, Crowley wasn't entirely sure what he was supposed to think of the situation anymore. With the hours he'd spent sleeping, Aziraphale should have started showing signs of degradation if he'd left a piece of his soul behind in Crowley, and as far as Crowley could tell gaining a piece of an angel's soul shouldn't have made him vomit the way he had. In fact, in the best case scenario gaining a piece of an angel's soul should have killed him.

Which left the troubling question of what, exactly, had decided to take up residence in his stomach, and where it had come from. Ever the curious demon, (and currently lacking in any of the self preservation skills that a fully awake Crowley would have,) he cautiously allowed his energy to prod slightly at the little gathering of energy pooled there, taking in the way it seemed to flicker like a dying light bulb. The energy wasn't quite as holy as he'd initially feared, which in retrospect made a more sense considering he wasn't dead. The tiny gathering inside himself may have been significantly holier than his own energy, but it was also significantly diluted, as if his own energy had mixed with it to make something more bearable. As it was, his energy could brush right against it without suffering even the slightest burn. At worst he might consider it uncomfortably warm.

It was then that Aziraphale stepped back into the room, two cups of tea held carefully in his hands, only to spot Crowley gently prodding one curious hand at his stomach. The curious look on the demon's face almost had a calming effect on him, recognizing that Crowley didn't seem particularly worried about the situation, but the implication that the demon might not know what was happening either was significantly more unsettling. Aziraphale found himself feeling a bit like his emotions were being batted back and forth like a tennis ball.

Crowley had already noticed him of course, far too observant to have missed the angel even if he'd wanted to sneak up on him. He took his tea with steady hands, and much to the angel's surprise actually began drinking it.

"Eugh," Crowley groaned, and for a moment Aziraphale feared he'd screwed up the tea one of the few times the demon had actually bothered to drink it. Crowley had a bit of a preference for coffee or alcohol most days. "Listen Angel, never get sick. It tastes disgusting, a bit like tar and ash really. Zero stars, might recommend it to Gabriel." With his piece said, Crowley promptly shotgunned his drink, and Aziraphale was left with the rather delightful image of Gabriel being forced into such a human act, especially one that was clearly disgusting all the way around, and apparently had the indecency to _linger_. Seeing Crowley drink the entire cup of tea was also delightfully enjoyable as well, even despite the unpleasant circumstances. Aziraphale would take what he was given just this once.

Once Crowley was finished with his tea however, the two were left sitting in an unfortunately tense silence as Aziraphale attempted to piece together exactly what he wanted to say. Something that might express his worry for his long time friend without making him defensive, but still pressing enough to get an honest answer out of him. He fiddled with his cup as he searched his brain for all the best words he could come up with, but before he'd finished piecing it together Crowley had spoken up himself.

"There's this weird thing." Crowley started, nails tapping against the ceramic of his cup while he spoke, "sort of like a ball. Bit of a bundle of sorts, made up of energy. Like, holy energy, which was obviously a bit worrying because of the whole demon thing." He admitted, although he didn't give Aziraphale a chance to react to that before he was plowing forward again. "I thought it was yours at first. Little piece of you left behind after the switch, and I thought 'well let's just make sure, wait it out a bit' you know? And then _that_ happened," here Crowley gestured vaguely at Aziraphale's bathroom with one hand, face scrunched up in clear distaste. "It hasn't gone away though, and it doesn't look like your soul is breaking down, so I checked it out. Poked a little Demonic energy at it, and what do you know? It's Holy, but it's not Holy enough to hurt. Not even a bit of a burn. Which doesn't make sense because any amount of Holy energy should burn, because I'm, in case you forgot, a bloody demon." Here he gestured to his stomach, right where his hand had been placed before. Aziraphale may have taken particular notice of how the shirt had been pulled up to display the smooth, undoubtedly warm skin there, but if asked he would undoubtedly deny it. Clearly he was simply concerned over the well being of his long term friend.

Still, Aziraphale lifted one hand towards that smooth expanse of stomach. He looked Crowley in the eyes twice, lost beyond words and yet needing to double check that it was alright, that he was allowed to touch him. The demon swallowed hard, but there were no twitches, no fear in his eyes that asked for him to stop, and so Aziraphale's hand came to rest on that small, smooth expanse of stomach. Familiar butterflies lit up in the angel's stomach immediately, the slight warmth of Crowley's skin seeping pleasantly into the palm of his hand, but he forced his mind to halt those thoughts in their tracks. Instead, he allowed a familiar burst of energy to well up in his fingertips, pushing it out through the exposed skin to entwine with Crowley's energy.

As Aziraphale's energy sank beneath the skin, he sensed the odd energy almost immediately. Coiled around itself in a twisting ball of energy was something undeniably life-like, and the angel found himself gasping before he could stop it. A light brush against the small form was met with a similarly tentative push back, until after a brief moment Aziraphale felt his energy being ever so gently tugged away from him.

"Good Heavens," Aziraphale whispered, oblivious to Crowley's growing concern. A small smile eagerly worked its way onto his face, followed by an even more eager, excited beam. "I've never seen anything like this," Aziraphale admitted. "Could be considered a miracle really. Not one of ours of course, but I mean-"

"Aziraphale, you've lost me." Crowley spoke up, staring uneasily down at his Angel's hand still settled across his exposed stomach. The words seemed to jolt the angel back to reality, but although his smile faltered slightly for a moment, his excitement didn't seem to wane too much.

"Crowley, I'm fairly certain you're pregnant!" Aziraphale exclaimed, looking excited and worried all at once. "Not that I can really guess as to how, considering we're even less capable of that then we are of getting sick, but the feeling is truly unmistakable."

The angel found himself rambling, looking decidedly away from Crowley, who he'd just now realized was probably not going to be nearly as excited as he was at the revelation.

Crowley, in that moment, was naturally confused, and more than a little put out. He, obviously, wasn't exactly opposed to children. Not after the whole Ark incident (and he'd had a weakness for outcasts since he'd fallen, not that he'd admit it,) but usually he'd imagined adopting them. Usually long after he and Aziraphale had gotten together. This? This was an entirely different situation. He was _pregnant_ for one thing, quite possibly with Aziraphale's child (because when else could it have happened then the switch?) before he'd even managed to work up the strength to admit his feelings to the angel.

He would have balked, would have denied the very possibility, possibly even refused to have the child at all, but then something shifted. The little soul tugging at his demonic energy shifted, and for a moment all he could sense was Aziraphale. He could see it even, a small little bundle of blankets tucked in the angel's arms, perfect little curls poking out, just a couple shades darker than their Papa's. Tiny little fingers and the smallest wings he'd ever seen, soft with the purest white down feathers. Because of course the angel would be there, he'd never abandon ~~him~~ a child. Especially not with that bright, excited look the angel was trying to hide. Aziraphale, more than any other angel, held a deep love of all life, and who was Crowley to deny him his only chance at creating one of his own?

Crowley let out a bit of an internal sigh, realizing his decision had already been made for him. A bit earlier than he'd planned for certain, but perhaps it would be better this way. After all, unlike a human child, their angel (demon? some sort of hybrid?) might actually stand a chance of outliving them. The thought of a third member of their little group exploring the millennia together certainly wasn't one he hated at least. So when Crowley looks up to see a worried, anxious Aziraphale twisting his hands (and oh how Crowley misses the feeling of those hands pressed against his stomach already,) as he impatiently waits for Crowley to respond to the news, he finds himself pushing aside the fear, anger, and the denial to lean back, look his Angel in the eyes, and ask-

"So then who's the father?"

One eyebrow raised, shirt halfway up his stomach, hands crossed behind his head, Crowley is a perfect picture of anything but innocence, smirking at Aziraphale's immediately gobsmacked look. rapid glances from his face to his exposed to stomach become increasingly desperate as he connects the dots, and Crowley's smirk grows into a full-on grin.

"I, I suppose that would be me." Aziraphale admits, looking a bit shocked himself. He can barely convince himself to keep breathing as he stares down at Crowley's stomach, the only shield between his apparently unborn child and the rest of the world, and he finds himself having to force back tears.

Neither of them have any idea what to do with the information. Aziraphale doesn't think he's ever heard of an angel getting pregnant before, and Crowley's absolutely certain he wouldn't know even if a demon had managed it. Neither had the slightest clue what the gestation time for a celestial child would be, or if Crowley needed to start eating to provide some physical form for the child. At this point they weren't even sure if they wanted a child just yet. Half the time they couldn't even decide if they were in love or if they simply happened to be particularly close friends. What they did know, was that they were having a child, and no force in heaven or hell would be able to stop them from raising it together.

"Well I, I suppose we'll need quite a few new things. For when the... baby comes." Aziraphale speak slowly, already trying to fit everything into his shop in his mind's eye. He did openly admit he was having quite a bit of trouble with it, should anyone have bothered to ask. The place had grown rather cramped over the years, in that cozy sort of way that he loved, even with the miraculous expansions that had popped up every once in a while.

"Might need more space." Crowley muses, although it sounds more like an agreement to Aziraphale's thoughts. Not for the first time, the angel finds himself wondering if the demon can read thoughts on top of all his other skills. "My flat's pretty empty. Not sure if it'll fit all your books though."

The implication that he and Crowley would likely be living together hits Aziraphale like a ton of bricks, and yet with everything else that's happened in the last eight hours, he can't bring himself to react properly. "Should we move then?" He asks instead, deceptively calm even through his internal panic. Or at least he believes so, the angel has always worn his emotions openly after all. Crowley wasn't going to bother correcting him.

"Maybe. Could expand the bookshop. Could just use my flat and pop in between. There's options." Crowley's has instead. Both men stare at each other for a long moment before he continues. "If I'm not allowed to drink neither are you Angel."

"I suppose it's only fair." Aziraphale admits, sending a longing glance towards his hidden stash. "Still, I don't think I've ever wanted to drink more."

"You and me both." Crowley groans, flopping back onto the couch as much as he could considering his already sprawled out position. Both men were left at a loss, unsure of where they were meant to go from here. Neither really wanted to think about it either. It's not exactly a topic that can be avoided though, despite their best efforts.

"I suppose we have some time at least. It's nine months for a human child isn't it? Surely a celestial baby must take longer then that?" Aziraphale asked, despite knowing full well that neither of them really knew for sure. He was right about one thing though, the two of them did have quite a bit of time to figure things out. Babies didn't grow over night after all, not even celestial ones.

"Best not to think about it I think." Crowley responded, already glancing down at his stomach in worry. "They don't really tend to stick to a schedule do they?"

"No I suppose not." Aziraphale agreed. Both men went silent for a long moment, uncertainties clouding the air between them in a muddled mess of unspoken words. While the idea of being parents definitely appealed to both of them, as did the idea of raising a child together, neither had actually been able to put their feelings into words just yet. Expressing them had gotten easier in some ways now that Heaven and Hell weren't constantly coming in between them, but they'd only just made the transition to meaningful, lingering touches. Holding hands still felt like a risk of potentially life ending proportions even after six thousand years of blatant pining, heartfelt confessions had been far too daring for either to be comfortable with yet.

"I'm not leaving you to deal with this alone." Aziraphale spoke suddenly, the words bursting forth in an unbidden stream before he could stop them. Having already dug the hole for himself though, he was hardly able to stop now. "We're best friends Crowley, and this child is as much mine as it is yours. I'll be with you every step of the way." Aziraphale's hands came up to straighten his bow tie reflexively, and the angel didn't have to look over at the demon sprawled out on his couch to imagine the deadpan stare he'd received from stating something so obvious. This little sliver of golden eyes peering above his glasses as he shot an amused condescending look at him, the sort of look that always had him flushing with embarrassment and a bit of something else. Aziraphale had no hope of meeting that gaze head on.

Which was rather unfortunate, as the real look Crowley was shooting him was something much more shocked and touched. A rather bright blush had extended from the bridge of his nose to the tip of his soft pink ears, and for a moment his jaw had dropped slightly in aw. A moment later he snapped it shut, his ego not letting him show such an unguarded look to his Angel if he had any choice, before he turned his face away in a sad attempt to hide how flustered Aziraphale had made him in just a few words. Images of a doting, fatherly Aziraphale flitted through his mind, followed by a rather detailed image of Crowley tempting his Angel into a second child. _That_ image was banished as quickly as it came, although the tips of his ears were notably redder now than they were before. The instinct to turn into a snake rose sharply, until Crowley realized that might not be the greatest idea in the world now that he was apparently carrying.

"Crowley, are you alright?" Aziraphale worried, having finally managed to drag his glance back towards the demon after his own flush had faded a bit. Crowley had no such reprieve of course, his face only darkening in shade as Aziraphale place his hand against his forehead. "Your rather warm, do you feel like you're going to be sick again? I was hoping that might be a one time thing."

"'M fine Angel." Crowley reassured halfheartedly, thankful beyond belief for his glasses at that moment. There was no way in Heaven or Hell he was looking Aziraphale in the eyes right now. He needed a distraction, _now._ "Probably ought to eat though, really. That's a thing babies need right? Can't grow without energy and all that."

Predictably, Aziraphale lit up like a Christmas tree the instant the word 'eat' left his mouth. The angel had been trying to get Crowley to eat for millennia despite how little interest he showed in the activity. He never pressed of course, but there was always that hope that he might one day stumble across something that tempted the demon into truly eating with him. Not that it had ever particularly bothered him when he didn't, he just... wanted to see Crowley as happy as he was when he ate. There wasn't much Crowley indulged in, not like Aziraphale with his food and his books, and certainly nothing that would guarantee a smile should he offer. The closest he'd come was the few times he'd offered to see a movie with him.

"Oh of course! We'll have to go to dinner more often now, and perhaps it's finally time I try my hand at cooking as well hmm? I can't promise it'll be any good, but I'm sure I'll get better in time after all!" Aziraphale prattled on with ease. Crowley didn't stop him, content to soak in the enthusiasm rolling off his Angel in waves with a rather dopey grin on his face. It wasn't like there wasn't time for planning later after all, and it would probably do them both good to have a little time to adjust.


End file.
